


I drew a line for you

by goldenmagikarp



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenmagikarp/pseuds/goldenmagikarp
Summary: "Finnish Lions are civilized," Julius said, and that didn't answer any damn questions. One day, Esa would get it. It was not today.(Basically: Esa/Klinger, with soulmarks. That's all to it. )





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the romantic's guide to astrolabes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17229077) by [venvephe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venvephe/pseuds/venvephe). 



> So I read _the romantic's guide to astrolabes_.
> 
> It was a good fic. The fic was really neat and worked in lots of symbolism and neat worldbuilding surrounding soulmate marks and more visual imagery. It was really neat and cool! But one thing I couldn't get out of my head was the really excellent line about Esa having a lion mark. So I wrote this, which is more of a straightforward soulmate thing with marks and no symbolism at all, whatsoever. 
> 
> Oops.

Some other people would say it was auspicious that Esa's mark showed up when it did. Esa won a medal with _his team_ , and then, beaming with national pride, Leijonat pride, the best kind of hockey feeling, his mark came through. 

Esa wished he could say he could feel it burn like hell, but he was a little too busy celebrating with the team. They'd won. _In Sweden_ , so that was a little bit sweeter, showing the damn Swedes their place. 

The trip back to the hotel room was a blur; the Ikonens hugging everyone; Teukka pulling no less than five forwards into headlocks; Juuse doing something inscrutable and vaguely angry but still celebratory; Arsi trying to lead them all into a round of bad song. Medals clanking more medals as they make toasts and hug and shout incessantly. Esa vaguely remembers all the defensemen crowding around the goalies for a big group hug. Wrestling happened; a lamp may have been broken. 

His head wasn't that bad in the morning. He wasn't sure whose room he was in, but it didn't matter, since there seemed to be five hockey players in various stages of consciousness on the floor. The floor was pretty soft, all told. 

"So, where's the sword," Julius asked, drily, an indeterminate amount of time later, snapping Esa out of that train of thought. He still probably wasn't sober. Esa probably wasn't, either, which both explained very little or a lot about why Esa was shirtless. 

"What?" Esa shoved at him in retaliation for being annoying, and like, being one of the guys that already made the jump to North America. Esa's drafted, but he has no real idea if he's going to hack it or if he ever really wants to leave home, and guys like Julius go and see if they can impress the Canadian scouts. 

They're very different people, Esa thought, but they're teammates, and they won gold together, so he wasn't all that bad. Esa yawned and found someone's shirt; it didn't matter. He put it on, and the medal around his neck felt weightless. 

 

It's only later that Esa really looked. He found his keycard and took another nap, and then all their handlers looked at them fondly but told them to get their shit together. That included, for Esa and everyone else, taking a shower. 

He saw it when he got out of the shower, reflected in the mirror. A lion, taking up a large amount of space on his back. His heart pounded. A fucking _lion_ , stylized like heraldry and golden, and part of Esa should hate it for being super showy, but he just won gold with this team, so he can forgo a little shame until later. 

It wasn't like Esa was going to hide his mark, not when it's so visible. He was also a hockey player. He didn't have that luxury. Casual locker room nudity happened every day, and occasionally, he'd get a comment or two about it, but the Liiga was a professional league. The guys wouldn't make fun of a mark. 

They saw about twenty of them every day. 

Well, once, Teukka joked that Esa should get a flag behind it, to complete the look. Otherwise, well, he was nineteen and a kid, and the older guys shook their heads or didn't care or noticed the way Esa was careful with it, sometimes, the way that he could stretch to put his fingertips at the edges of the lion, making sure it was real. 

Those guys, well, they knew. 

 

North America was different. Texas was weird, big and endless flat, dotted by hills, and so hot. Being in the AHL wasn't bad; buses were buses the world over, and Esa could take a nap easy, and he had Julius, even, to bother. Julius still had his number, and well, it was only for a little bit, so why shouldn't he offer his couch? 

Esa came to North America, in March, after playoffs. It was a small consolation. 

"Hey, nice to see you," Julius said. "Where have you been all year?" 

Esa grumbled at him, but at least he knew someone. Forts, the captain, had been around to show him the layout of the locker room, but Esa mostly smiled and nodded and tried to practice his English. He should have tried harder in school, now that he thought of it, but that was the past. "How is it?" 

Julius shrugged. "Hot, you know." And Esa already got a warning about wearing sunscreen. "And hey, we've got some guys, but you know, Kiviaho's a goalie, and Jyrki got called up, so thanks for saving me from the Swedes." 

Julius grinned, and Esa thought, well, maybe this wasn't so bad. 

 

Locker rooms were mostly the same. You got dressed in them. You undressed in them. 

"Holy cow, Lindy," he heard, and he was still getting used to his new teammates, and Esa really hated that nickname, but he'd live with it. "When did you get that?" 

"Get what?" He balled up his shirt and put it with the rest of his dirty stuff in a laundry bag. 

"The whole," and the gesture Ritchie was making was weird, and Esa had to look at Julius, who just gestured to Esa's naked torso, and -- oh. 

"Ah." Esa felt his face turn red, the blood rising to the surface. "World Juniors."

"We got gold," Julius helpfully added, also helpfully gloating. "So it kind of makes sense." 

Ritchie pulled a face. "Wow, that's hardcore. Did the whole team get those, or just you?" 

Mo shook his head, "Rich, Honks just said he was there. Does he have a giant ass lion? No." 

Forts affectionately patted Ritchie's head. 

Julius laughed. "No, it's his _mark._ " He stretched it out like it was indecent. Then he kept laughing, the asshole. Esa didn't know why they were friends, to be honest. Well, other than lack of choice for conversation partners. 

Forts whistled. "That's something pretty big, for a mark." 

"Yeah, special," Esa said, and his soulmate had to be. 

It wasn't like he really bought into the idea of a perfect soulmate, but it was hard not to think about it, not when there was a giant lion on his back. Most people had a mark; there was some conflicting information about that, depending if you asked a doctor or a writer or a priest, but there were a lot of people in the world and a lot of marks. 

It tended to work out, and that was the thing that mattered. 

 

Except when Julius was an asshole about Esa's mark during Mario Kart.

"It's a lion." Esa then stressed, "I'm _Finnish_. Julle, c'mon, find better ammo." 

"You might be, but that lion's suspicious." 

Esa did not take kindly to whatever insult that was, and he wasn't taking his shirt off again to make a point. He wasn't sure if that was insulting him or his soulmate, who must be pretty damn special so that Esa had a lion covering most of his back. He frowned and spun off Rainbow Road. 

"Finnish Lions are civilized," Julius said, and that didn't answer any damn questions. One day, Esa would get it. It was not today.

"Okay, whatever," Esa said, finally giving up. He threw a controller at Julius. 

"Your turn to order pizza," Julius reminded, and wow, Esa needed better friends. Not enough to not room with Julius next season, but he definitely needed better ones. 

 

He got his first taste of the NHL in January.

Esa was used to the Texas Stars. He saw some faces he knew, vaguely, and some he didn't when he came into the room. Some of course, he only knew _of_. Guys that had gone from pictures on walls to real life, breathing, in front of him. 

It was kind of weird, honestly. 

They wanted to see what he could do, and for the most part, he sat with the other defensemen, listening. The room was noisy and chaotic, like all locker rooms were. Esa thrummed with anticipation. Anything could happen. 

Jyrki, overall, was a much more pleasant roommate than Julius. Esa even said as much, for the short time he'd be imposing on him. 

"He does worse than make you sleep on the couch?" Jyrki asked, raising an eyebrow. "Tell that to his face and send it to me."

Esa had the distinct feeling he had gotten into the middle of something. 

The rest of the Dallas Stars were something else. Jamie Benn made an attempt to say hi, but then he mostly nodded to Jyrki and waved and then asked, "You've got him, right, Kev?" before he was off, in the direction of where his brother and Seguin and Demers were, if Esa got the read of it right. 

"Kev?" Esa asked, turning to Jyrki. 

"It's a long story," he said, wearily. "If you're going to be my tag along, I guess we should find the others." 

He couldn't really object to that. Except, "I'm not here to carry anyone's bags." 

Jyrki patted his shoulder. "If you say so." 

Demers was incomprehensible. Goligoski was polite. Everyone was scattered. There were forwards he would learn the names of, on the opposite wall. The goalies, Esa realized, he knew _of_ ; he'd played for their old teams, and it was a little surreal to hear them talk about goalie things. The Swedes had their own little huddle around Johnny Oduya, and the room seemed okay, until-- 

"Oh shit, not this again." Jyrki scowled as some very twangy music came over the locker room speakers. "Esa, the worst part? Country music. Always." 

It probably wasn't the worst part. 

Esa took the number they gave him, and he didn't care all that much. 23 was fine. It was a number, and he's worn different numbers before. He wore 3 just a couple of weeks ago, in Cedar Park. Esa liked the number 3. 

Klingberg wore it, up here.

John Klingberg was weird. Even weirder than a normal hockey player, or at least, that's what Esa thought. He was tall and skinny and pale, and it wasn't like _Esa_ wasn't any of those things, but they all combined together to make someone who could look through you with piercing eyes that a stiff breeze could topple over. And somehow, when he smiled with all his teeth, which he did pretty often, honestly, Esa always seemed to notice it in the corner of his eye. He could have sworn there was something, a spark or jolt when Klingberg was around him, and Esa had to take a breath.

Esa stuck close to Jyrki, for the most part. He didn't know where he stood, and also, wow, some of the guys in the room seemed shocked that Jyrki could speak at all, even in Finnish. 

"Ignore them. Specifically him," Jyrki pleaded, but it was hard to ignore Jason Demers being loud and ... Demers. There wasn't another word for it, honestly. "If you ignore them, they have no power over you." 

Stifling a smile, Esa said, "Sure, that's definitely how it works." 

 

He was in the lineup for a few games. Four, to be exact. He was at the practice rink for another practice, and Klingberg brushed against Esa's back as he tried to dodge some rolls of tape coming down the hallway, and Esa scooted back, but there was this relentless tingle down his spine, a bit like pins and needles fading away. He wasn't imagining it, then. "What the fuck," Esa said, to himself, under his breath.

It would have been awkward going back into that room, but Coach Lindy called him into his office and told him they were sending him back down. Which Esa was expecting at some point, but still.

It was a long drive back.

John Klingberg was the Stars' top defenseman, or they treated him like he could be, and he was a pretty funny guy.

Esa didn't like looking up other people's stats. Focusing on his on game was enough.

He googled Klingberg anyway. There were SHL highlights, and quite a few of them, to be honest. Esa wasn't sure how many videos he let Youtube autoplay for him, but Klinger was _good_. Mesmerizing, even. No wonder he hadn't spent much time in the A. A part of Esa felt disappointed, if he had to put a name to the feeling.

 

Things were different, when he was up for good. 

The Stars put him and Klinger on the same pairing, more often than not, out of training camp. They didn't--if Esa was honest--they didn't make perfect hockey. It was clumsy and uncoordinated, the way that they started, but then they just clicked. Klinger would give him a smile and a nod, and Esa would be right where he wanted him. He played his game. He was solid, and that's what the Stars wanted Esa to be, and every time Klinger scored, there was a little bit of pride in Esa that told him _Klinger couldn't have done it without him_.

Another thing that was different; now that they were d partners? Klinger had no sense of personal space. Or maybe it was because Esa no longer had a Jyrki-shaped buffer between him and everyone else. He was very close, and Esa couldn't help but be hyper aware when he always in Esa's space. 

"Don't you have better things to do?" Esa asked, as Klinger tried to peer over his shoulder to see what Esa was fucking around with; it wasn't anything serious, just a game, and there was barely an inch of air and fabric between them, and Esa's back felt that strange tingly feeing again. It wasn't unpleasant, but Esa then gritted his teeth. 

"Like what? Sharpen my own skates?" Klinger rolled his eyes as Esa lost his last life. "Well, D meeting in fifteen, you know. Coach wants to say things." 

 

Klinger also dragged Esa to sit with him at dinner, and Esa spent an outrageous amount of time trying not to appear on Smitty's Instagram, mostly failing. This was probably how this season was going to go, and he could feel it, the warm feeling of routine setting it down. It felt nice to be included. 

 

"So, you gonna teach me some new words?" asked Klinger, one day. That seemed like a total non-sequitur. "You know, greet your adoring public when those Finnish media guys come back?" 

Esa felt embarrassed. He didn't want that kind of attention, and Klinger knew it, judging by how wide his grin went. "You should stop trying to swear on TV." 

"But why not?" Klinger tried to look the picture of innocence, and maybe it would have worked if he was actually carved out of stone and not just had the cheekbones, but he added, anyway, "And besides, if I knew more words in Finnish, I wouldn't have to swear!" 

That almost made sense. Esa still turned away and grumbled, but he wondered, for a moment, if Klinger would actually try to learn Finnish. 

 

At some point, Klinger became _John_ , and Esa had the hardest time trying to figure out when or where. 

 

And there was also the problem of John's mark. Esa wasn't looking that hard, but it was pretty early in the season when he noticed. Or well, when Segs noticed. 

"Hey, Klinger, is Esa's bigger than yours?" 

"Segs, we make that a fine?" Rous yelled, across the room. "You're not twelve." 

"I just wanted to know. They're like, both yellow." 

Esa thought that they all left dick comparisons behind in Juniors, but apparently not. They'd all seen each others' dicks at this point; there wasn't any reason to--and after Esa felt his ears burn, he realized that he mean _marks_. He felt like that was partly the point. There wasn't privacy on a hockey team at the best of times. There was no science to how you got your mark. It came in when it wanted to. Esa has had his for years, at this point. He doesn't get a ton of chirps about it, and all the guys who were in the A with him have gotten it out of their systems. 

"I don't know," and John rolled his shoulders. "But I already put on my pants." 

Esa couldn't help but look over and see a yellow crown--a yellow crown on top of something peeking over the side of John's jeans, where the rest of it must lie across John's hip. Maybe even over his thigh. Esa's chest felt tight, and he didn't know what to do except put on a damn shirt, since they were all being modest about it. 

He'd be lying if he didn't think about John's mark a little bit. He was nosy, of course, and that was a natural trait of hockey players, but he didn't want to know about. Well, he didn't. Esa wore his lion like a badge, and he wasn't ashamed of it, but maybe the marks did place themselves in those places for a reason.

Esa usually thought of his soulmate as a far-off distant possibility who'd show up at the right time. He kind of hoped that the right time was soon, though, if only because he kept stopping himself from looking to see what John's actually was. 

He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be. 

 

"This seems kind of familiar," Esa joked, when Julius got called up. He was there to pick him up and also, he supposed, show Julius his spare room. 

Julius scoffed. "In your dreams." 

"Funny, I don't think I dream of your ugly face." 

Julius stuck out his tongue at Esa, like they were children, and Esa let out a laugh. It was good to see him again. 

 

What really wasn't good was that Julius still made fun of his mark. Like, a lot. Rich was up, and he didn't even do that. 

"You find the sword yet?" he'd ask, and Julius dropped his luggage in Esa's spare room. "Not that I expect you to tell me, but--" 

Esa grumbled. 

"Just let me know if you need me out," and Julius snorted. "I don't need to see that." 

Julius still made no sense. 

 

It came to a head in the locker room. They put Julius's stall where they had space. 

"It's not like we all get proof of chemistry," Julius said, under his breath, in Finnish, and then he followed by some stuff that Esa recognized because Julius really needed to work on his chirps. He kept recycling them. 

From across the room, Lauri shot him a sharp look, like Julius had crossed a line; more like that he was surprised that Julius had said it, not at what he'd said. 

Julius seemed surprised when Esa got up. Like, he hadn't just said that Esa's mark matched--

Esa walked out of the room. He needed time to himself. 

 

Esa couldn't avoid John forever, but he wasn't expecting that John would be leaving an open seat for him, at dinner, still. Everyone else, by some unspoken consensus, left him alone at the table. That was really conspicuous.

"Matty asked if I was banned from Team Sweden, like, the first day," John said, when Esa sat down. Esa wondered who else would have taken John aside and told him anything. The Canadians probably didn't know or care, but yeah, they had Swedes in the room and other Finns; he didn't expect Lauri or the goalies to say anything, but maybe? Probably. Maybe Julius, even. There was probably a lot of chirping behind doors. John looked concerned. "You really didn't notice?"

"I wasn't looking," Esa protested. "It's not like mine; there, it's not to show off." 

"And yours is?" John laughed, and his whole body shook with it. After a moment of silence, he closed his eyes and added, "It's your stupid lion. With a sword. Maybe I'm glad it's not a flag."

Esa processed this for a long moment. Esa's chest felt tight, and until now, he wasn't sure how much he wanted it to be true. But he _wanted_ it. A slight curl of possessive feeling curled in the pit of his stomach, and he wasn't really against the idea of John wearing Finnish colors. On the other hand, Esa probably would have died of a heart attack if he'd woken up with a fucking Swedish flag after winning World Juniors, so that worked out. His voice sounded small and quiet when he asked, "You sure?"

John wouldn't meet Esa's eyes. He took a deep breath. "I'm pretty sure." He scooted over, slung his arm around Esa's shoulder. It was nice, casual, almost. Esa didn't stop himself from leaning into the touch. It felt right.

"You get so red if I even," and John just kind of hovered his hand over Esa's back. "I kind of like it." 

"That was on purpose?" He'd done that a lot. 

"Yeah, obviously." 

Esa didn't want John to go away, but the realization that John probably stayed around and bugged him for attention made a lot of sense, now. Not that he didn't hang around other people just as much, but he always especially had time to bug Esa. 

"Can I see it?"

"Wow, Esa," and John looked mock-shocked, but he had the widest grin on his face. "Not even going to buy me dinner before trying to take my pants off?"

"How about coffee?" Esa laughed into his hand, still pretty red in the face, and they were going to be alright. Esa let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 

It would be theatrical to say that Julius leaves with a bang, but that didn't happen. Esa was vaguely aware that Julius's alarm went off, and that there was the sound of someone rattling around in his kitchen at an hour that didn't exist. 

"We won't have to see the shoes," Faks said, like that was reasonable, when his absence was noted. His nameplate was gone, and there was no trace of him. "Socks and sandals. Who raised him?" 

"He'll be back," Esa had to say, but even so, he couldn't defend that. 

Faks shrugged. "But we're safe for now." 

Esa texted Julius: _I think your shoes traumatized Faks_

The reply: _GOOD_

 

They were in John's apartment; Esa was watching John try out his fancy new coffee machine. In the movies, in the books, the leadup was always to finding your soulmate. It never told anyone what to do after. 

John shook his head. "Easy. Keep doing what we were doing before, and kick ass." 

Esa raised an eyebrow. "Whose ass are you kicking? Don't fucking fight anyone, Klinger. Stick to scoring goals."

He put on one of those mock-arrogant looks that Esa really should hate, but he couldn't bring himself to. John said, "Well, I guess. Since you can't score, I'll have to do it." He stroked his chin in a bad imitation of thinking men. "And I guess I'll keep my face unbroken for you." 

"I appreciate that." Esa found the mugs on the second try. "I'm just getting used to it. I think I like it." 

When John pulled him in for a kiss, it was awkward and not perfect, but the way Esa's heart pounded, well, that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Klinger gets really buff and tan after Worlds 2017, and Esa is confused but not complaining.


	2. Bonus soulmark smut snippet:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't work this in the fic proper, but it goes with this.

John's hands were big. Esa had noticed; they were good hands, soft hands to make the plays that he did, but also, they were big hands. It was very noticeable now, when John's hands were fisted in Esa's shirt while he was distracted with John's tongue in his mouth.

It felt maybe a little treasonous, to grip and claw at the lion on John's skin--but John leaned into every touch, every sensation sparking up his nerves, and Esa couldn't stop himself from digging into the mark. John's mark--for Esa, as obvious as the sky was blue. 

And John certainly didn't keep his hands off of Esa's back, running his hand under his shirt, over the lion to make Esa shiver, and the feedback loop of sensation was a lot, honestly. John's reached down into Esa's pants, and skin-on-skin contact was about all he needed to shudder against John. John made nonsense noises that may have been Swedish mumbling or just sounds, and Esa reached for him again. 

John kissed him, after, in the warm, sated feeling. 

And after that, Esa kissed down John's chest and went lower, to more nonsense sounds and John's hands gripping onto Esa's shoulders. When Esa pulled off, John came with barely a stroke on his cock, and it mostly hit his shoulder, but the thought came to him--some of it went over his shoulder. Esa left John a moment to admire his handiwork, if that was the case.

Esa couldn't help but smile up at John, who looked at him goofily and soft.


End file.
